


Sweet Dreams

by Kyraelii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Fluff and Smut, Frotting, Jake being a dense dingbat like always, M/M, PWP, Sexual Content, and Dirk being his creepy self, basically pwp yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyraelii/pseuds/Kyraelii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cliche setting of a sleepover, normal teenage hormones, and a nice dream to kick up the angsty emotions. What will Jake do when he wakes up in the night to find himself snuggled up to by his best bro with a not so little problem pressing into his backside?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> From a request on Tumblr: "[...]Maybe one about Dirk and Jake? Where Dirk has a dream about Jake, and little does he know Jake is sitting there listening to Dirk. And Jake can't stand it anymore so he wakes Dirk up for some 'fun' eheheh"  
> 

"You must enjoy getting your ass kicked, English."

"I most certainly do not, now stop cheating!"  
Sleepovers at your best friend's apartment always end up being fun, but they can be a little annoying at times. Such a time is right now, as you lean with your controller to try and maximize your ability to control the character. Dirk always calls you silly for it, but you ignore him. The frustrated noise you make echoes in the emptiness of his room when he uses a dumb flying blue shell to capsize your team.

You're glad you're staying at his place for the whole weekend this time, so you can really kick his ass tomorrow.

Dirk dodges the pillow you throw at him, and the glow of the screen before you both is the only thing that highlights his grin that's busy contrasting your own scowl. You had to set down your game controller to fling the puffy projectile at him, so you lose yet again to him at this stupid Mario Kart, but you're pretty damn sure he was going to beat you anyways.  
The blond laughs triumphantly, while you huff indignantly. "Play a blasted adventure game, then we'll see who wins," you mutter under your breath while you fold your arms over your chest, the perfect sample of childish anger. Of course, all Dirk does is scoff and shake his head, his expression fading to a teasing smile.

"You just suck at games in general, bro. I suggest sticking to watching movies."

"Fuck you." You grab your only other pillow and throw it, leaving you to lean against the uncomfortable leg of his bed. But he catches it this time with a snicker and throws it back at you. It's enough to make a grin flash across your lips when you actually manage to catch it for a split second, before you fumble it out of your own damn hands. Dang eyesight is muddled with the near-darkness, clearly.

"Butterfingers much?"

"Quiet, Strider. I will get up and leave your abode this very instant."

He appears unfazed and retains his cheerful visage as he turns back to the game. Well, it's not outrightly cheerful. Barely even a quirk of the lips, a touch of a smile. But being the best friend of a Strider does not come without the ability to read at least a majority of your allegedly "cool" companion's expressions, and you'd like to think of yourself as a pro in that department, if not an all-around master. Reading Dirk makes these sleepovers much more fun than if he were unable to, because gosh darn that would be frustrating as all hell. And he's pretty frustrating enough as it is.

But this is the first night over at his place that the two of you have had in a while, so you're taking the benevolent route and overlooking it. At least, until you get the right opportunity to whack him over the head with a little payback.

"Sure, dude." His voice tugs you back to reality, and you blink before finally looking away from him to gaze at the television. It's back to the starting screen, although Dirk is quick to press a button and get the show on the devilish dervy of a road again. "You gonna let me whoop that premium behind again, bro?"

"Hah! As if. I'll beat you yet, you just watch." Your brow furrows and you scoop up the controller again, picking out your team. Dirk lets out a huff of almost-laughter, and you bite back a smile. It's so funny when he tries to hide himself from you. But it's just so easy to see through sometimes, you wonder if he really tries.

*********

You're glad that Dirk's older brother has gone out for the night, because jeez you'd feel bad if the chap was here to suffer with a lack of sleep through the hours worth of you and Dirk shouting through the games, cycling through a few the two of you have gathered. He really does know them better than yourself; you just enjoy mashing buttons whereas he actually keeps a rhythm, sets up a complex plan with his characters. But the few times you get his goat, you make sure to crow it to the heavens with hollered cheers. Just so he knows how badly you can beat his ass, too.  
He throws the pillow one time when this happens, but he's grinning, so you don't think he feels really all that bad. Nonetheless, you attack him with the pillow, initiating a war of sorts that's cut short when you land a knee on his controller and have to forfeit the match. He rolls his eyes and calls you a liar, that he was winning, and you just scoff and shove at his shoulder.

You don't know what time it is when you actually feel tired, but you're pretty sure it's somewhere near 1 in the morning and you can barely see straight even with the assistance of your glasses. You inform Dirk of this and he comments on your inability to ever stay up much later than this. "Seriously impressed you stayed up this late actually," he comments without looking at you, focused on the game he's playing. It easily transferred from two-person to one, so you can watch him go about slaying undead monsters like no-one's business without feeling too bad about dropping out of the session.

"Do me a favor and bug off, chum," you grumble halfheartedly as you toe your socks off, already shoeless. When you turn, you stand only so you can clamber onto his bed. You're leaning over and setting your glasses on the desk next to you when you pause, looking over in the general direction of your friend. The brightness of the screen in the otherwise total darkness of Dirk's room makes you squint until your eyes readjust. "You don't mind if I sleep on here, right?"

"Nah."

"Okay. Where are you going to sleep?"

He makes a _tch_ sound of amusement. "Same place as you, if that's okay. I mean, it's a decent sized bed."

"Oh, alright." You nod to yourself, not even really thinking about it. After all, you and Dirk have slept in the same bed before. Granted, the last time that happened was a long time ago, almost seven years ago. But even if you're sixteen now, it can't really be all that different. Maybe a little more crowded, but that's never been a bad thing with the blond. He doesn't really give many people a lot of physical contact, so the rare times you get it, you find its quite nice. "Goodnight then."

"Night, Jake." He sounds a bit distant as always, but there's an underlying warmth in his voice that makes you smile as you let yourself under the bed covers, pausing to slide off your green jacket as well. You leave everything else on, if only to be sure Dirk isn't uncomfortable with you when he gets sleepy enough to retire, and then you let your head hit the pillow with a soft _whumph_. You're out in seconds, as always.

*********

You wake up groggily, pulling yourself from a rather relaxing sleep that you wish you didn't have to disturb. But in the earlier excitement of gaming, you had forgotten to take care of some pretty important bodily needs. So you only relax on your back before rousing yourself with a tired sigh. Or, at least, you try. But you can't seem to move, and it's only then that you register a heavy presence ontop of your own.

You shift, frowning a little as you finally open your eyes. Blinking the bleariness away down little until you adjust to the darkness; you must have been out for only an hour or so. But when you can finally see, you smile warmly upon finding what's on top of you. Or rather, who.

Dirk, still fast asleep despite your shifting, looks like the pinnacle of perfection. Even with your impaired vision, it's easy to see every detail when he's this close to you. His shades are off (thank goodness, that would have been uncomfortable for you to have those poking at you) and his expression is... peaceful. You almost never get to see him so content, so astoundingly calm. The Strider tends to pride himself upon being a light sleeper, which makes his current sleeping all the more curious. His light pink lips are set into a soft line, slightly parted for breath and while his eyes are closed, you can just barely see his eyes shift beneath the skin as if he's in a deep sleep.

Now that you look, the faint circles under his eyes--normally so carefully hidden by his shades--have darkened considerably, distracting you from the light dusting of freckles on his face. The bloke hasn't gotten nearly enough sleep as he should be getting, and it warms your heart that he's comfortable enough to relinquish his practically constant self-control around you to allow himself a good nap for once. It's almost enough to make you not mind the taller boy curled against you.

Almost, because while your best pal is really friggin' adorable like this, you still need to take care of your bladder's complaints.

So you sigh again and wriggle yourself out of the blond's slack grip, managing to don your glasses in the process. You look back, and while his brow furrows and he stirs a little, Dirk doesn't wake up. You take this as a blessing as you stand and quietly exit his room to relieve yourself.

The bathroom light is unnaturally bright, you decide when you flick it on and quickly let out a hiss, squinting. Fortunately, you don't take that long, and you can turn the light off once again after you've cleaned up, which may not have been the best idea since that leaves you to stumble blindly back to Dirk's room. To your credit, you only trip once and bump into the doorway before you manage to get back to the bed, sitting to slide under the covers again. Your friend's body heat is easily found and pressed to again, he on his side with you on your back. One of his arms drapes itself across your chest, and you can't help but grin as he nuzzles into your neck with a mumbled slur of unintelligibility. Sleeping Striders are so much more open than awake ones, you decide silently.

Your eyes drift closed, and you'd be content to fall asleep right now... but something's pressing against your nose, making you frown and reach up to feel around your face. Oh, that's right. You had put on your glasses. You had kind of forgotten, to be honest. You pluck the eyewear from off your face and shift, rolling onto the side of you that Dirk isn't facing while you stretch out to set the glasses on the desk. You can hear the blond behind you grumble in protest at the loss of heat, but while squinting in the darkness to see the desk and make sure the eyewear is not misplaced, you pay him no mind.

At least, not until he moves closer and presses himself against you.

You automatically freeze, glasses still in hand, and for the first time since waking up you realize that Dirk isn't wearing a shirt. Actually, the only thing it feels like he's wearing is a pair of boxers. Even if you can't see them, you're pretty damn sure.

Because only boxers would allow an erection to be so prominent.

His arms coil around you in your moment of shock, and you can feel your heart rate picking up instantaneously. But you can't seem to move, you're paralyzed and dammit you've never been good at acting fast in a pickle, Dirk is so much better at that sort of thing--

As if sensing your thought of him, the blond lets out a soft grunt and tightens his hold on you. And then you realize that it... doesn't actually feel uncomfortable. He's kind of slotted against you, knees bent to your own, and you can feel the entirety of his warmth now as opposed to the previous side-snuggle. But even as you finally relax a bit, a strong thrum of guilt courses through you.

Because you're actually finding it a little enjoyable, odd enough as the scenario is.

You remember the glasses hanging in your fingers thanks to the dull ache of your arm hovering for far too long, and you exhale a slow breath that you hadn't realized you were holding in. Carefully, you set the glasses down, cringing just a bit when they clack quietly against Dirk's shades. But the Strider remains fast asleep behind you, and as you shift back a bit further into the embrace you feel the warmth of a sigh tickle the back of your neck. You close your eyes, and you feel horrible for smiling.

Because you're really enjoying this more than you should, and while you've entertained the thought of you and your best pal, well, getting "more than friendly" (gods, Dirk would laugh at you for saying it like that) on more than one lonesome night in the past, you certainly can't condone this as gentlemanly behavior. This being taking advantage of Dirk being asleep, when he can't resist any of your more-than-friendly actions. No, the best course of action is undoubtedly to pretend everything is alright, and that you were asleep all night with no knowledge of this happening.

Too bad you're not even a smidgen sleepy at this point.

Dirk mumbling in his sleep behind you tears you from your train of thought, and you silently will your heartbeat to calm the hell down already.  
In fact, you're so busy trying to keep calm that when Dirk's hips rock forward, your eyes snap open as you let out a rather undignifying squeak of surprise.

All of a sudden, the room is filled to the brim with a tense silence, all your muscles frozen in place as your heart flutters erratically, a nervous knot starting to form in your stomach. The blond remains silent; you're unsure if the noise woke him up or not, but the arms around your waist don't seem to have changed their grip at all as they surely would if he were waking.

It's only when he sighs and pushes against you again that the knot your insides are twisted into finally dissolves, a strange mixture of relief and confused arousal flooding you as you slowly relax again. Your friend seems to appreciate that, because he practically tugs you into the next motion, rutting against your shorts-clad backside and wow does that feel nice. So nice, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from moaning even though he does it for you.

Gosh, you definitely haven't heard Dirk make a noise like _t_ _hat_  before. You force yourself to pull your hand away, pretty sure you can control it now, and take a deep breath even as Dirk makes another sound of pleasure. It makes the fire stir in your gut again, and you have to bite your lip pretty hard to keep from making any noises. Hearing him make any vocalizations like that is surprisingly good; the Strider is always so calm and reserved, hearing him pant and make the softest noises of enjoyment behind you is almost too much to handle. It's nearly overwhelming, really.

Of course, you understand the definition of morning wood quite well. And Dirk is probably having some sort of wet dream, which you completely understand too. You've had your fair share of both, it's just a part of being a growing man. Why he's probably thinking of some voluptuous babe, maybe with fancy spiked hair and a sword like his. Is that the kind of person he gets off on? That'd be easily understandable as well.

What's not so understandable is how the thought of such a woman doesn't arouse you half as much as your best friend's grinding is.

Nonetheless, you do have to shift uncomfortably. This feels incredibly nice and all, but it's starting to create a problem in your own trousers. Dirk seems to have picked up a slow, almost sluggish rhythm, and it's just about killing you. Maybe, if you can manage to work your shorts off without waking him, you can relieve a little of the tension in your own straining member. While you mull this over, Dirk grinds forward--and a breathy noise escapes him, almost a moan, and the sound shoots straight to your gut.

Yeah, shorts need to come off pronto.

In the next instant you're unbuttoning them with fingers that only barely shake, which you're quite proud of because you're basically trembling with need now. You have to wriggle around in an effort to get the damn clothing off without removing your own boxers, and your near-thrashing partially dislodges you from your sleeping companion's grip. Once you manage to kick them off, losing them in the blankets, you quickly settle back against him again.

Only to find out he's not quite so asleep anymore.

He's tensing, shifting and grumbling soft words. You can tell that he's not awake yet, by the way his hips move one last time and he groans--did he just say your name? Oh frig, he must be waking up, _fucking christ on a cracker--_

You go limp as best you can, eyes squeezed tightly shut while you try to pretend to be asleep. You really hope he doesn't notice the slight shaking in your hands, nor the rapid thudding of your heart.

The arms around you shift, then pause. Slowly, the body curled against you shifts and pulls a fraction away. One of the arms, the one not snaked around your side pressed to the bed, raises back behind you and out of your vision, but from the way your friend's sigh echoes you can only assume he's rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
 _Fuck, you're gonna be in so much trouble._

And yet, despite your inner panic... Dirk doesn't seem to notice. He doesn't even appear freaked out by the fact he's pressed up against his best bro with what you can only assume to be an aching erection by now.

At first, you wonder if he even notices, but then he shifts his hips a bit and sighs, the noise incredibly loud in the silence of the room. So he's definitely aware, that's for sure.  
If you didn't know any better, you'd say that the blond is almost reluctant when he pulls the lower half of his body away. But his chest remains to your back, oddly enough. And even more peculiar is how you suddenly wish you had managed to take your shirt off, so you could be as scantily clad as he. Now isn't the time for such thoughts though, you don't need to have more of a problem than you already do!

The return of Dirk's hand distracts you from yourself, thank goodness, but you quickly become confused. What's he doing? His hand squeezes your waist lightly, fingers scratching almost absently at the wrinkled fabric of your shirt. It's almost ticklish, and you bite your lip to refrain from wriggling. Finally, his hand begins to move, and you're filled with relief. Surely he's going to move away now, and you can get a better grip on your pretense.

Except that's when his hand dips to slide under your shirt, pushing it up a little, and he presses the palm flat to your bare abdomen with his fingers splayed over your stomach.

His hand is much cooler than your overheated body, and before you can stop yourself you shy away from the touch. This inadvertently presses you to the blond again, and you wince to yourself when he tenses. He doesn't move, though, and neither do you; you feel paralyzed, although you're desperately trying to keep "asleep". Your eyes are shut tight, and you need to focus to keep from breathing too fast. _In, pause, out. Again._ You count the breaths in your head.

By the seventh breath, he relaxes. He must have thought he had awoken you, you think. Goodness, is this a truly ironic situation. (Really you have no idea. How does irony even work?) Slowly, his hovering hand presses to your stomach again, and this time you remain still and remember to breathe in, and out, just like that, good.

He doesn't try to move his hand any further up your shirt, thankfully enough, because you don't know how you'd feel about that. He just strokes lightly over your middle, thumb gliding slowly over the muscles hidden by the slight pudge of your stomach. You and he are both pretty fit if you do say so yourself, but you've never understood how he retains such a finely-sculpted figure, as if he were chiseled from the palest of marble. You've always been a little jealous of him for it, but you can't find it in yourself to hold even an ounce of envy while his hand strokes over your stomach so... endearingly. The only thing you're jealous of is how you can't do the same, but you've kept your cover for far too long to blow it now.

These are some awfully bewildering thoughts you're having, but you don't really care anymore.

Even as you firmly remind yourself of keeping quiet, the Strider distracts you again when he leans closer. A warm breath on your neck is the only warning you get before he nuzzles the spot, and you swear you can just barely feel his lips press to the skin in a fleeting kiss. He sighs, his breath washing over you, but it sounds different. A familiar longing, somehow? Abruptly it clicks: the sound is familiar because you've heard it before, from your own mouth. It's the same dreamy sigh you always let out when you're thinking about your favorite lovely blue women.

And it's only then that everything makes sense.

_Dirk was thinking about you._

The revelation is so shocking--even if it shouldn't be--that you don't even register Dirk's hand leaving your skin. At least, not until his fingers brush lightly over yours.

You hate yourself for flinching.

He freezes instantly, as do you, but you're pressed to him and he can undoubtedly feel your muscles tense. After a moment, his hand shifts, and the palm presses to your chest. Even through your shirt, you're sure he can feel your rapid heartbeat because it's thundering in your ears.

"Shit," he breathes behind you and you know it's over, you just know it, _you've ruined everything._

Before he can pull away though, because you know he'd try to run, you give up on holding still and your hand darts up to grip the wrist close to your chest, holding him in his place. "Wait," you try to say, but it sounds too loud in the silence.

"Sorry." He tugs on your grip, which tightens, and you feel horrible for the regret in his usually calm voice. He does try to keep the monotone, to his credit, but now it's painfully easy to see through.

"No, I..." You frown and open your eyes, shifting. You manage to turn without letting him go, and you can see a frown on his lips as you face him. He's pulled away a little, but the two of you are still pretty close. The brilliancy of his eyes surprises you a fraction; he rarely lets you see them, explaining that they're sensitive to light and all that, but really you think it's because they show more of him than he'd like. In the darkness of the room his irises are a dusky gold, flecked with hints of brown that increase around the edges. You offhandedly wonder what they'd look like in the daylight.

"I don't really mind," you try again in a quieter voice. He snorts as if he doesn't believe you, but you can see one eyebrow quirk a fraction, hinting that you should continue. You swallow and take in a breath before doing just that. "It's just... earlier, you were having a dream of sorts. Is that right?" It doesn't really need confirmation now, but he manages to give you a nod, and he earns a small smile in return. He's trying hard to put up those blasted barricades around his emotions again, but with his eyes exposed he's so much easier to read. You find that you like that.

It lets you know that he's just as nervous about this as you are.

The blond tries to pull away again, mumbling another apology even as you frown. You open your mouth to speak again, but he manages to tug his wrist free this time. He's moving to get up--  
"Wait!"

Dirk freezes, unmoving, because you've grabbed him again. He was turning to the other side, so you went to catch his thigh. And even though he tries so hard not to move, to give himself away, you feel the slightest tremor run through him.

You're pretty sure of what that dream was about now.

Slowly, so as not to startle the Strider, you shift to sit up the same as him. Now you can only barely see his eyes, but you know that they're fixed on you while you move. Your knee knocks lightly against his side when you move to face him, turning so your legs are bent the other way. You give him another smile and lean in, lightly bumping your forehead to his. He lets out a breath close to a shaky laugh at your silliness, and you chuckle softly, eyes falling closed.

You don't move for a few seconds, simply enjoying the closeness. Your thumb rubs soothing circles in the skin of his exposed thigh, and you can feel the nervous tension melting from him. It's only when he nudges his nose against yours that you move, taking a breath as you lean closer but quickly stopping yourself. "Can I kiss you?" You ask softly instead.

"Yeah." His voice sounds so much smaller than you're used to. Shifting to lean most of your weight in the hand you have pressed to the mattress, you raise the other from his leg to lightly cup his cheek, trying to reassure him. He tilts into the touch with a quiet sigh, his breath warm against you like before, and you take the initiative to lean the last couple inches and press your lips to his.

At first, that's all it is. A little pressure, nothing uncomfortable, just the push of skin on skin. But then some switch seems to flip in the Strider's body, because he finally responds and moves his lips.

You're proud to say that you are not a kissing virgin, having had a girlfriend before. She was a right fit gal, definitely a perfect match to your fantasized blue ladies. But while she was a sweet soul and very nice to kiss, the two of you had only dated for a month before you had to call it off. There was just something wrong, it didn't quite fit. And although she was reasonably saddened when you explained this, she had understood, and the two of you parted on good grounds.

But the gentle kisses and quick pecks you had given her were nothing like this, of that you are sure.

You've never seen Dirk in a relationship, but he really seems to know what he's doing. His lips knead softly on your own, somehow leading you, and when you sigh and tilt your own head a bit he responds by catching your bottom lip between both of his and sucking lightly. The thrill of pleasure startles you, making you gasp, and he moves to take advantage of your open mouth with his tongue.

When the smooth muscle slides over your own, your first reaction is to inhale sharply and pull away. But suddenly Dirk's hand is on the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair as he pulls you back before you can so much as take a breath. Once again his tongue brushes against yours, and you can't help but groan softly at the incredible sensation. You've never had anything like this before, never felt anything so electric or made your pulse jump in this way. Tentatively, you respond to the slow movements, trying to mimic your friend's actions.

And when you work up the courage to slip your tongue into his mouth, inadvertently licking his teeth at first, your pulse hammers in you when it's him who makes the noise. You firmly decide that you need to make him do more of that, pushing more insistently at his lips as you move closer.

You're dimly aware of shifting, climbing into his lap, but you're distracted by the soft sound he makes when the kiss is broken for air. You gulp in a breath, then lean to connect your lips with his again while both tongues slide between them. There's too much spit in your mouth so you swallow, and the thought of it makes you shudder. It's amazing, the way it all feels, and there's a fire crawling under your skin and in your gut that you desperately want to burn hotter.

Then his other hand goes to your hip and tugs you down, and you get just that.

A loud moan rips from your throat when you grind down against him, and the kiss is broken again for a breather. This time, the two of you take a moment to pant for air; you can feel your cheeks hot with a flush, and you don't have to look to know that Dirk's face is the same. Your hand that isn't holding his cheek has moved up without you noticing, gripping his bare shoulder. And when you open your eyes, you find his own staring at you. You smile, a bit sheepishly, and this time he's the one to chuckle. The silence between the two of you is comfortable, easy. Just like it's always been.

After the moment has been drawn out for a good while, and you still haven't moved, you slide the hand on his cheek down to rest on his other shoulder. There's still nervousness in his face, but not half as much as there was before. It makes your smile widen just a bit. His clothed erection is still pressed to yours, but you don't want to move too fast, for both your sakes.

Then, once you've worked up the courage and steadied yourself, you rock your hips forward experimentally.

It's just a little bit awkward, but mostly the friction creates sparks of intense pleasure. You groan just a second before him, his own breathier than yours, and you grind against him again, seeking more of the delicious sensations. The hand in your hair trails down your back, gliding over your shirt before all ten digits are clutching your hips, both hands used to guide you down this time.

You quickly lose yourself in the repeated action, rutting down onto your best friend's cock with nothing but eagerness. Perhaps if you were in a better state of mind, you'd be questioning yourself and your actions, but right now you're just too goddamn hot to care, clutching at Dirk as if he's about to abscond if you lighten your grip for even a moment.

For the first time, it's he who launches the next kiss, and you respond with twice the gusto you had before, loving the feeling of the wet muscle lapping at your own between both lips. He swallows up the sounds you make, and you do the same; he's not half as loud as you, but the noises he does let out are just so divine they make the blood burn as it races down to your groin.

Suddenly he breaks the kiss, panting heavily, and you take the chance to lean in and nuzzle his neck while you thrust down against him. He groans and tilts his chin upwards, a clear gesture that even you understand, and it makes parts of you flutter and ache with want.

You press a kiss to the pale expanse of skin, covered with a light sheen of sweat by now, and he shivers. And when you bite down, he actually moans, the sound hitched when you seal your lips and suck. You don't really know what to do here; you know about hickeys, but you've never really given them. Still, Dirk seems to really enjoy it, if the increase in noises is anything to go by.

But the constant roll of your hips is starting to lose its rhythm; this is just so incredible, and your young stamina just can't withstand all the stimulation. You're ready to blow, and you think Dirk knows that when your thrusts start missing the beats. His hands, having gone to just clinging to you, now slide down to grip your ass and squeeze. You gasp and he pulls you back into action, keeping you going where you cannot.

You moan against his neck when he awkwardly bucks upwards as well, and your hands slip from the broad, freckled shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling his jaw and panting into his ear as the waves of pleasure start flowing too fast, overwhelming you until you're outright humping him and you're too fucking turned on to care about anything anymore. The noises Dirk makes right next to your ear are electrifyingly pleasant.

Then he whines your name, and you're pushed over the brink.

Your hips jerk forward and lock when you come with a choked cry, pressing your chest to his as you arch against him. He grunts and thrusts upwards a few more times of his own before stilling, letting out a throaty noise that makes your breath hitch.

You keep still for only a second longer before trembling, then collapsing against Dirk with both of you breathing hard. Your head dips to rest your forehead on his collarbone, and his arms slide up to wrap around your waist. The two of you remain like this way for a little bit, regaining your senses. It's nice, relaxing against the Strider, and you keep your eyes closed. Your shirt is a little uncomfortable, plastered to both your skin and his, and the mess in your boxers makes you grimace when you shift. But you ignore it all for the wonderful feeling of holding your best friend, and vice versa.

 _Your best friend._ Oh, cripes. There's the thoughts you didn't want to think, and with the afterglow fading all that's left is for the fear and anxiousness to come crashing down on you. Dirk must feel you tense with the unwelcome worries, because the arms around you tighten just a little before one shifts, and then a hand rubs just above the small of your back. You sigh, grateful for the soothing action, and nuzzle into his neck. The worrisome thoughts are dissolved, melted by the simple touch.

Dirk breaks the silence first.

"Dunno 'bout you, English, but I'm pretty fucking tired."

You can't help but laugh at the joking tone, then sigh again. "Yes, I agree wholeheartedly. Sleep sounds splendid."

He hums softly before uncoiling his arms, and you open your eyes and take the opportunity to slide off him. Well, not before giving him a quick peck on the lips, and you catch the briefest image of Dirk's countenance twisted into surprise--a moment to remember--and then you pull away, blushing darkly. You're still pretty uncomfortable in your boxers, and the room is stiflingly hot now, but you don't know if Dirk is alright with you taking things that fast just yet (even though the two of you basically just fucked, but you're a gentleman and dammit if you'll make your best pal uncomfortable) so you just settle for peeling off your shirt before you lie down on your side in the cooler half of the bed.

Your eyes are closed once more, but you can feel the blond move. The mattress springs creak behind you, and then Dirk is behind you again, arms slipping to hold you around the waist once more. Something unnamed tugs at you in your chest, and you have to bite your lip from smiling when he presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

There's a lot that has gone unspoken, and the two of you will definitely talk about it later. But right now, with sleep descending and Dirk's chest pressed to your back, pale legs tangled with tanned ones, you're too tired to think about it.

You fall asleep with a light heart and a satisfied body, sure that the rest of the weekend will be interesting indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, I do take requests. You can send any of them right here: coolkid-stridenasty.tumblr.com/ask   
> They take a while to write, but feel free to ask for any ship and I'll do my best to get it done within the week!


End file.
